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They bartered for her body.
Made an offer, set a price.
She followed a hollow promise;
now empty words bounce off like hail,
leaving their damage behind.

It’s a broken deal—
severed trust.

She is empty air.
Lying on a cot in a dank corner,
skin sweating, spirit frozen.
She is a hollow body:
ripped, torn, scarred.
Swallowed in pain, feeling nothing.
Her eyes no longer cry;
her mouth no longer smiles.

She is empty air—
speaking.
A phantom voice manifesting, now.
Not quieting,
telling a story, her story.
Slowly steadily refusing to back down,
she is clasping a hope that seems inconceivable.

Our ears hear her story.
We are unsilent.
We are resonating the sound of the silenced.
We are clenching justice in our hearts and love in our fists.
We are locking eyes with injustice.

We are ready to do the work of love.

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